


Sunshine - han jisung.

by Smutlix



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, More Chapters to Be Added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28777551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutlix/pseuds/Smutlix
Summary: Everything around is in slow mode, everything is quiet, and my worries blow up. Leaving it to the wind, i’ll let go.Even in a noisy city (in my noisy mind), I’ll do what I want. Sit in the sunshine and close your eyes; when you open them, you’ll find me.It’s quiet here, apart from the sound of our breaths.Everything that hurts me is blown away, it’s fading; So should I just fly to the sky, amongst the clouds that are swimming?Even in a noisy city (in my noisy mind), I’ll do what I want. I’ll sit in the sunshine and close my eyes; when I open them, I know I’ll find you.Sunshine.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi. before you begin, i just wanna say thanks you for reading this and that this work contains really heavy topics that may trigger some of you, so please read the tags before you start <3

The sky looks… sad.

Peeking through the sheer green curtains, the first rays of the morning sun playfully dance behind the clouds, but the sky above still seems indifferent.

Jisung remembers how the sky used to look. Beautiful hues of red and orange and pink filled the jolly skies that spread out graciously above the world, it’s happiness almost infectious. 

He feels like the sky, he thinks. 

He used to be a “bundle of joy,” a “boost of happiness” but he can’t remember when he last felt that way. It must be long ago, before the skies turned numb and his world became dull. He can’t recall such a time.

Or he can, but just its gist, just a faded polaroid of it, but he can’t for anyone’s sake remember how it felt, how he felt.

It’s going to be over soon, anyway; the day that his skies will collapse and drown him in his own mind, independent of how bright the sun would shine. 

It’ll be over soon.

🌥🌻⚠️ 

It happens again.

As it always has, sunset arrives; the day comes to an end, and the sun leaves the sky. The sky may think that it feels indifferent, but even despite how numb it is, it feels the burning hot— or the ice cold disappointment and hurt as the sun leaves it in it’s bitter wallow and misery.

Even though Jisung thinks of the sky and sun a lot, the days, night, hours or months don’t matter to him; time doesn’t hold much value to him anymore. He spends all his days in bed, under his beige sheets, mind numb and senses either too haywire or tiny there at all. 

He thinks that, sometimes, he should probably get up. Off the bed and into the world. Maybe to his friends who he barely sees anymore. Maybe to his parents who he just can’t bear to see. To someone. To _anyone._

But he can’t muster the energy to do anything, it seems. Even breathing seems like a chore, every inhale and exhale pushing him further down, and pressing down on his heart.

Numb. Numb. Numb.

When did he start feeling so numb?

To be truthful, he can’t fully remember. Or he does, but he just doesn’t want to say it. Saying it makes it real. No, he needs to stay numb so he can convince himself that none of it is real. It’s better that way. 

He wonders if he’s a psychopath sometimes. He used to major in psychology in college before dropping out, so he has a basic idea of their nature, hence he wonders if that’s why he is numb, that’s why he doesn’t feel happiness or excitement like any normal person. But he knows he isn’t one. His heart aches, it beats and it feels. It used to feel so much, so deeply. It still does sometimes. When he’s listening to a sad song, or just staring at the reflection of himself in his window sometimes, he cries. He feels despair, pain, and before he can realise, tears are running silently down his cheeks and dripping onto the windowsill. He feels sadness, occasionally, yes. But he still can’t recall when he last felt happy. He knows that it made him feel giddy, made a beautiful warmth run up the spine of his back and made his eyes form beautiful crescents, but he doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel happy, why he doesn’t feel anything but an echoing emptiness in his hollow shell of a heart.

It would’ve just been better if he were crazy.

Maybe he is, he thinks. Sometimes, everything seems like it’s too much, or too little, or too strange to describe. In his room, his safe haven, sometimes he feels like it’s suddenly too cold. So cold. He turns the heater up, turns off the fans in the middle of the summer season in July and takes out all his woolen because suddenly, everything feels so cold. His mouth feels dry, and his body sweats, but he still feels so cold. He can’t breathe because the windows are shut, and the heater is starting to give his blankets a discolouration from the heat, but he shivers with the cold in his mind. 

Sometimes, it’s just too hot. It’s so warm, and suffocating that he feels as if all the air in his lungs had been replaced with boiling hot water. He tugs his clothes off, turning on the air conditioner at its coldest and bringing ice packs to put on his body in the peak of December. The fans are at their highest and snow starts to fall in from the open windows, but he still feels so, so hot.

Sounds are all the same as temperature. On some days, it’s too empty, too quiet, such a lack of sounds that he can hear the echo of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, his own sharp breathing alarming him in a strange way; and on other days, it’s too much, a ringing in his ears that he tries to block out all night and day long; a ringing so loud that he can’t sleep for even a close second, eyes dropping in exhaustion but never fully closing.

...Not that he can sleep much anyways— trust him, he would love to. It would be amazing to rest his eyelids and let go of all his worries for a little more than just a few hours a week through sleep, but his insomnia doesn’t let him even close an eye, body and mind both equally awake yet tired. 

He wants to go on. He wants to think about himself a little longer, maybe redirect his numbness into an emotion, any emotion. But he feels selfish. He has people who care for him, people who expect things from him. How can he think of himself so selfishly instead of thinking of them? How disgusting of a person is he to not think of others before himself? It scares him. Not just his own thoughts saying that he is “cruel and selfish” but how he became like this; the way he believes that everything is his fault, how even the first thought that comes to his head is to blame it on himself, to hate himself, and to hurt himself over things, even when it’s not his fault. Maybe that’s an emotion? Is that something else?...He genuinely doesn’t know.

The sun finally leaves completely, the last of its glowing yellow radiance going down and he can see street lights lighting the roads down below from close to his bedside table. He sighs.

It’ll happen all over again, until one day, it won’t.

One day, Jisung’s skies will collapse, and all will finally be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was no dialogue, but i assure you that the next one will have a lot more. please leave a kudo and comment if you enjoyed! it would make me really happy 💖


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here’s a really quick update— i hope you guys like it! <3

A chilly night breeze blows past Jisung and his hoodie is pushed off his head as his wavy brown bangs brush against his forehead along the cold autumn wind. He’s taking small, unsure steps on the broken sidewalk, but his outsides can’t show even a quarter of the struggle inside his head. 

He wants to sigh again, but he feels like if he did too much of it, he would simply extinguish, his body finally burning out and falling prey to his mind like a dying matchstick in a blizzard. 

It’s not even that cold; but then again, he can’t ever tell whether it’s heat he’s feeling, or a freezing cold, it’s just too confusing for his poor heart. So he couldn’t help it— no matter how much he hated to go out, he really had to buy a hoodie and a few packets of ramen and a slice (definitely more than that) of blueberry cheesecake. He may feel exceedingly numb, but he still has good taste, he thinks with an empty chuckle.

It’s a good thing he got the items he wanted with minimum contact with people, quickly grabbing his necessities and leaving as soon as he paid for them at the counter. Cold, gloved hands now holding the packets from the mart, he swings his arm a little to create a momentum, the beat of the bag hitting against his leg sparking something as he hums a new, flowy tune.

This is one of the only things he likes about himself; no matter how he feels, he can’t get enough of music. It was just his minor in college, but it meant the world to him. Even though the sensation of sound drives him completely insane sometimes, music somehow soothes him and coaxes him out of all his worries. When he’s gone sleepless for almost a week, troubled by every thought, every sound or movement, hallucinations from the lack of sleep haunting him with a burning hatred, music relaxes him into an easy slumber, and before he knows, he’s on his bed and out like light. 

It’s a nice beat, slow paced and impactful, and Jisung thinks he can work with it. He’s humming a couple low notes, before vocalising out loud on a higher scale— when the stretch in ranges make him stutter, his voice breaking and his feet stumbling. He thinks he’s lost the beat, but a small, small sound of tapping alerts him because this time, he isn’t the one making it. 

He looks around, but he can’t for the love of music see who is making the sound, or where they are. His house was right one block into the alley he was standing beside; he could choose to ignore it altogether— which is exactly what he would do, but for some reason, he couldn’t, _didn’t._ He wanted to know where that rhythm was flowing from, how it was so consistent and precise and how it contrasted so beautifully with his. 

He took a step forward, crossing past the familiar path to his abode and taking scurries steps forward as the sound grew louder, no, as he got closer to it. He vaguely sees as he crosses over the Nakdonggang River Bridge, left hand grazing the railing of the shady passage as his feet kept propelling closer and closer to the sound that now seemed to pump waves of shock and sound towards him, into him. Before he can realise, his sneaker-clad feet come in contact with ankle deep sand and the scent of corals and open waters coddle him in their beauty; he’s at the Dadaepo beach. 

And before his brown eyes, stands the most ethereal scene he has seen in all his life; it was a boy.

Yes, he knows he has a thing for men, he’s _literally _gay, but that isn’t why— he knows that’s not why he finds the sight so beautiful. The boy— who he knows not the name of— is dancing. His feet, clad in plain blue ballet flats make a euphoric rhyme as he steps on small stones and shells, its clicking and tapping making the sound that Jisung had been chasing, a sound so perfect that Jisung could feel it beat with his very own heart as the waves of the open ocean clashed against the beach.__

____

____

That’s not all— the boy’s close-to-white hair is messy and wavy as it sways gently around his heart shaped face, and his eyebrows strong, with gorgeous and delicate blue eyes to compliment them with his white, snow-like lashes which make him look like an angel which belonged nowhere but in a place of happiness and peace like heaven itself. Dots— freckles, he realises, are sprinkled and scattered like stars on his button nose and across his peachy cheeks, which contrast his pale skin in ways that Jisung just can’t believe are real. And below it lay his cupid’s bow, glowing with it’s coral colour as his bottom lip struck out and glistened in the light of the moon, which seemed almost dull in the presence of the boy. 

Although wearing a ratty, oversized, grey t-shirt and loose, faded sweatpants, the boy looked like the physical personification of beauty, and Jisung had never seen anything like him.

Suddenly, the boy stops dancing, and his feet prance off the shells and onto the sand, head tilting and eyes twinkling with curiosity as he looks at Jisung for the first time. 

The brunet can only watch as the freckled boy walks towards him with feather-light steps in his ballet flats and before he knows it, they’re face to face, tired honey brown eyes staring with adoration into tender blue-green ones.

From so close, Jisung can see details he hadn’t noticed from far away while the blond was dancing— his eyes aren’t just blue; they’re a mix of blue, green, and gray, with little crystals, glittering like stars as his pupils widened in wonder. 

Maybe the sky can rest for a little, maybe it can fall _back_ instead of falling down altogether. 

Maybe for once, it can see and enjoy the night and the moon and the millions of stars that want to dance with it in a melodious, rhythmic beauty.

Gathering courage in his heart and his suddenly sweaty palms, he pushes the packet in front of him and into the boy’s chest, not letting go of the handles in order to not scare or wear out the blond. “Wanna have some cheesecake?”

It’s a very unusual question to ask, and only then does Jisung realise that he’s a stranger, offering food— a sweet, specifically— to a (beautiful) dancing stranger at who-know-what time at night. He’s about to step back when the boy nods, eyes looking determinedly at Jisung and his jaw set sharp in affirmation. 

Jisung smiles a little in relief when he figures he hasn’t completely scared the boy off, and then… the boy smiles.

His eyes crinkle at the corners and his pouty lips curl up, and Jisung thinks that he couldn’t get any more beautiful, when it really wasn’t even a full smile, and just the first of many, many more. The boy’s cheeks flush a little darker pink as he does so, and Jisung feels a warmth caress him over the curve of his spine and settle into his fingertips with a buzzing electricity. For once, he feels. Not _numb,_ no.

He feels happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed, it encourages me to keep writing and really makes my day 💖
> 
> thank you for reading!! 🌥🌻✨


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